The Saviour and the Phoenix: Book One
by TheHunter747
Summary: My attempt at the twin!Harry/wrong-boy-who-lived category. Does not contain abuse, there will be some unintentional favouritism, but not much. Dumbledore is misguided, but whether good or evil, only time will tell. Harry will not be evil, but he will be more powerful than in canon. Oh yes, in case it wasn't obvious, this is an AU.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I've always wanted to do one of these stories, as I feel there is so much potential in this part of the fandom. The interactions with the family can be complex or simple. However, I don't believe that either Lily or James would outright abuse their child. I read those stories too, but I never felt them to be realistic. Fun to read, yes. Hopefully this will be a good story.

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Lord Voldemort was in a good mood tonight. This alone was cause for alarm in itself, given who he was. After all, who would be happy that a psychopathic murderer was in a good mood? Walking through the town of Godric's Hollow, named as such for the fact that the mother of Godric Gryffindor himself had lived here before meeting the Lord Gryffindor and falling in love.

A cruel smile played at the edge of the Dark Lord's lips, thinking on the irony that the last descendants of Gryffindor would die in the birthplace of their hero.

'How...fitting. Such irony of course, will go unnoticed by most of these pathetic sheep in the magical world. A pity.'

A young child ran up to him, cheeks flushed and rosy from running around in the cold October night.

"Cool costume, mister!"

The self-styled Dark Lord turned to look at the impudent brat that dared to insult him. As the poor child saw the face underneath the hood of the Dark Lord's cloak, his mouth opened in a soundless scream, before turning and running, no doubt fleeing back to it's filthy muggle mother.

Voldemort fingered the grip of his wand. 'It would be so easy,' he mused, 'two words, and the little beast would never reach it's mother.' But the 'Darkest wizard in an age' had a task to complete. Later, he assured himself. After his task here was complete, and his immortality assured, then he would wipe the town of Godric's Hollow off the map to celebrate.

Reaching his destination, he looked at the modest two-floor cottage in front of him. Some would call it cosy. Others, quaint. Voldemort cared little, since he would soon be burning the cottage to the ground anyway. Raising his wand, he unlocked the door without a sound and stepped over the threshold, causing a sudden Caterwauling Charm to go off.

"Lily! It's him! Take the twins and run! I'll hold him off! Go!"

Hold him off? He, the most powerful wizard in the world? Voldemort almost laughed. Walking into the living room, he batted away a Blood-Boiling Hex aimed at his head.

"And here I was, gong to offer you the chance to live. Every drop of pure blood spilt is a terrible waste after all. But now, you've sealed your fate, James Potter! Crucio!"

Potter dodged the curse and sent a string of Blasting Hexes at him. Sweeping them to the side - and really, why did the wizards of Britain consider wandless magic to be difficult? It was simplicity in itself, after all - he responded with a volley of Killing Curses. Incredibly, Potter dodged all of the deadly jets of green light, responding with a chain of increasingly dangerous curses. Voldemort dodged them all, except the last, a Cutting Curse which slashed a huge trail up his left arm.

Both wizards stood there for a moment, one frozen by disbelief, the other by fury. Finally, Voldemort moved, sending out a Nightmare Curse which would cause the person held under the curse to relive the worst moments of their life, similar to the effects of a Dementor. It was one of the Dark Lord's personal creations, and one he was rather proud of. Deciding that he would kill the fool later - 'Perhaps I'll show him the bodies of his children before he dies. Yes, that should be fitting punishment for daring to harm ME.' - Voldemort stepped over his opponent's twitching body, sweeping up the stairs to the nursery. Stepping in, he noticed that the Mudblood chit was busy trying to bring down his Anti-Apparition and Anti-Portkey wards. Hearing him approach, she turned, eyes widening as she realised her wand was in his possession.

"Step aside, girl, and I shall spare your life."

"No, please, not my children, please, please, anything but them, please..."

The little Mudblood's incessant whinging was beginning to grate on his eardrums. Throwing another Nightmare Curse at the bitch, he noted that she didn't even move out it's path. Looking at her as he walked towards the cribs, he bowed.

"I can respect bravery, girl. Your death shall be quick when it comes."

Turning to the two cribs in the room, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named - and really, who came up with that ridiculous appellation? - began to compare the two children before him. The elder of the two - Harry, he thought the child was called - was gazing at him, not in fear, but in curiosity, as though asking why he was there. Conversely, the younger child - Adrian, if Peter Pettigrew was correct, pathetic fool the man was - was currently bawling his eyes out in fear. (In actuality, the younger child's thumb had been caught in the gap between the side of his crib and the wall, and his tears were from pain, not fear, but the Dark Lord would not have believed this if he knew it, and would have insisted the child was simply terrified of him.) Turning back to the older child, Lord Voldemort made his choice.

"You remind me rather of myself, child. Truly, you are the only one who could be my equal. Fear not. Your death shall be quick. It may even be painless. I would not know. After all, I will never die."

Lifting his wand in a salute, the Dark Lord brought his wand sweeping down, uttering the words witches and wizards everywhere feared to hear. "Avada Kedavra!"

A jet of green light flew towards the child, a rushing sound filling the room. But just as the curse would have struck home, an ethereal green, semi-corporeal wall of light appeared before the child, the curse fighting to try and get past it. Looking on in shock, Lord Voldemort suddenly noticed the child was focusing on the shield, one slightly pudgy hand raised in front of him.

'Impossible. Could this mere child be doing what no other wizard or witch ever has?'

Unfortunately for the Dark Lord, his moment of shock cost him dearly, as the shield finally reflected the curse back to it's caster, a wave of raw magic literally exploding outwards from Harry James Potter, blasting the room apart, and causing the body of the Dark Lord to disintegrate. The soul of Voldemort cursed, before fleeing the crumbling ruin of the house, vowing revenge on Harry Potter as it went. As it was leaving, a wooden beam fell over the crib that held Adrian Charlus Potter, a part of it snapping off and slicing two lines on his cheek, which vaguely resembled the mathematical sign for equals. (=) Adrian began crying from the pain again, while his brother, exhausted from the sheer effort that the shield he created required, collapsed, magically drained. The last action he took while conscious was to heal his brother's scar as best he could. Alas, since he was merely a child, he was not completely successful, and the remnant of the scar would always remain. As he slumbered, his magic healed the scar left by his own brush with death - literally. The lightning bolt faded until only someone who already knew it was there would be able to see it.

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Whilst the 'most feared Dark Lord' in modern times was attacking the home of the Potters, Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Warlocks (a group similar to the Muggle United Nations), and all around 'good' guy, was holding a meeting of the Order of the Phoenix, a group known to very few, whose history expanded back centuries, and, some whispered, even millennia, and whose sworn duty was to stand vigilant against the evil that would always be present, lurking in the shadowed corners of the world.

Unfortunately, the current Order of the Phoenix left much to be desired. The last two wars against Dark Lords, one so soon after the other, had taken their toll, and the 'Light' side was outnumbered and outgunned - metaphorically, of course. Add to that the reluctance of their leader to use any spell that could hurt someone, preferring instead to try and redeem the irredeemable. This had been a point of contention for many years among this group.

"For the love of Hecate, Albus! Wars are not won with hugs and kisses! We have to fight back! Or are you content to sit back and watch as we are slaughtered, by people who barely deserve the title of 'human'?!" This, surprisingly, came from Pomona Sprout, a recent addition to their numbers, and Head of Hufflepuff at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. A woman well known for her patience and kindly, jovial attitude.

"Pomona, while I appreciate your fervour, and share your desire to end this war soon, we must rise above our enemies, lest we become the very thing we fight against."

"Albus, I do not wish to become as our foes have, but surely you can see that we are fighting a losing battle right now. Unless we begin fighting back, sooner or later - and most likely sooner - we will all go the way of poor Dorcas." The person referred to by Minerva McGonagall, Dorcas Meadows, had recently been found, savaged and mauled. The death had been attributed to Fenrir Greyback and his pack of near-rabid werewolves, who had been roaming the country, preying on the unwary for the majority of the war, and had recently declared an alliance with the Death Eaters.

Fortunately for Dumbledore, any further complaints were halted by a sudden explosion of noise from one of the trinkets on his shelf, before it began deathly silent once more. The wizened face paled, before he leapt into action, surprisingly spry for a man of his advanced years, some would say. Shouting orders left and right, he prepared everyone to head to the cottage in Godric's Hollow. Normally, the others in the room wouldn't have been able to know where said cottage was, or even that it existed. However, on this particular night, the house in question no longer existed. Or at least, enough damage had been done to it that it could no longer sustain the wards placed upon it, thus breaking the Fidelius Charm. For his former student's sake, Albus hoped that a charm had gone awry, but didn't hold out much hope, if any.

Apparating to the site, Albus was met by a towering inferno, blazing out of control, where the house once stood. Rushing towards the house, Albus attempted to enter, but was barred by the appearance of two adults from within the house, each with a baby in their arms, and exhaustion and pain lining their faces. But beyond that, and Dumbledore did see this, too, was hints of joy, and the beginnings of hope.

"Lily! James! You're both alive! What happened? Has Sirius...?"

It was James that answered, helping Lily to climb out of the ruins of what had once been their house. "Voldemort attacked. Put some kind of curse on me and Lily that affects people like a Dementor. Attacked the kids. Sirius is innocent. We switched, but didn't tell anyone. Peter is the one you want. Now if you'll excuse me, Albus, my wife and I are going to St Mungo's."

"Of course, m'boy. Here, allow me." Picking up a fragment of what might once have been part of a window-frame, Albus tapped it with his wand, muttering "Portus." as he did so. Handing it to the family, he returned to the rest of the Order, sending them to search for Peter Pettigrew, with orders to bring him in alive, and to ignore common belief that Sirius was Secret-Keeper for the Potters. With that task accomplished, he apparated to the reception of St Mungo's Hospital, and headed towards the room that contained not just an incredibly fortunate family, but possibly the miracle Albus had been praying for.

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A/N: Well, there you have it. Love it? Hate it? Not sure what to make of it, so want more before you make a desicion? Let me know! Reviewing is free, and brings good fortune to the reviewer! (Warning: The previous statement may not be factually correct. The author does not claim responsibility for any bad fortune visited upon reviewers after they have reviewed the story.)


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Okay, thank you all for the overwhelmingly positive response to this story. And may I just say. Hippo back at you. I haven't decided how much of a git Dumbledore will be yet, but my Harry isn't going to be as big a fan as in canon. Hopefully it will all work out, but the story writes itself, and the measly author is simply dragged along for the ride. With that said, buckle up and enjoy the ride!

Disclaimer: TheHunter747 does not accept responsibility for any of the following; diarrhea, projectile vomiting, premature labour (or the pregnancy associated with said labour), or the rights to Harry Potter.

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Two days had passed since the attack on the Potter family, and things were finally starting to calm down. Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew had been found - just in time, as Pettigrew had tried to blow up a street, and Sirius wasn't aware that James, Lily, Harry and Adrian were still alive, and thus wasn't thinking clearly. As Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody later said, "Boy was acting like an eejit. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" This statement had the unintended consequence of scaring Rita Skeeter out of her wits, which Harry would one day consider to be a VERY good thing indeed.

During this time, Dumbledore had been busy dealing with Death Eater trials. Many were sentenced to Azkaban, including, to the eternal shame of his father, Bartemius Crouch Junior, however many more, including the infamous Lucius Malfoy, managed to slide, twist, manipulate, blackmail and bribe their way out of Azkaban. In later years, Harry Potter would be asked how he did so well in politics. His response?

"I watched Lucius Malfoy. Anything he did, I did twice as often." This statement had the unintended consequence of a slew of rumours regarding his sexual orientation, but the furore died down eventually.

Eventually, however, the Healers at St. Mungo's couldn't see any reason to keep the Potters in the hospital any longer, and they were discharged with a clean bill of health. Charlus and Dorea invited them to move into the Potter Manse, and they accepted, since their original home was now a gently smoldering ruin. Two days after they moved in, the last trials were completed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~POV Change~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Ah, James, Lily. Good to see the two of you up and about."

"Albus!How are you? Have you been keeping well?"

Albus chuckled to himself, knowing that if Lily was mothering him, she was feeling just fine. Sobering at the thought that hit him like a freight train, he sighed.

"I am well, Lily. However, there is a matter that the three of us need to discuss. Perhaps we could use a private room?"

James Potter's eyes grew wide, and had Severus Snape been present, he would have mocked him mercilessly.

"I...see. Would this be regarding the, ah, item, which required us to go into hiding?"

"Precisely, James. I believe it is time you learnt the full contents of said item."

With that, the three moved into a private room, while little Harry James Potter, eldest twin by one and a half minutes, frowned. He may only be a baby, but he was startlingly intelligent. In the Muggle world, the young mage would have been called a prodigy. In the magical world, he was just shrugged off as 'a Ravenclaw in the making'. Standing on his slightly pudgy legs - and inwardly wishing he could shed the puppy fat - the intrepid youngling toddled over to the door and tried to listen. Words drifted out, reaching his infantile ears. He would never realize that Albus Dumbledore had cast a Silencing ward around the room, and thus, what he was doing should, by all rights, be impossible. All he knew was the grown-ups were keeping secrets, but he had always been told not to hide things, and so he believed he was helping them stick to the rules.

Meanwhile, across the room, a woman stood, watching her eldest grandson listen at the door - or try to, at least, to her mind - while thinking that if he learned how to be a little less conspicuous, he would do brilliantly in her former house of Slytherin. Her husband stood next to her, silently amused at the young child's antics. The younger child started to try and draw his attention, and so he sat down next to his second grandson, pulled some childlike building blocks towards him, and the two started to play.

And all the while, emerald eyes stared, tiny ears listened, a gray-eyed, black-haired woman smiled at her grandson, and above them all, unknown to most, a series of stars shone bright.

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Firenze was not a foal anymore! He was not, no matter what Magorian or Elder Biran said! With this thought firmly in mind, the six year old centaur snuck past the guard at the entrance to the centaur enclave. His mission? To catch a dream hare. Mjrn, their healer, could make many potent medicines from the tail of a dream hare. Slipping through the boughs of the Dark Forest, Firenze's young mind refused to even consider the possibility that he might not be up to the challenge. He was six years old now, after all. And besides, if he caught a dream hare and brought it back, even Bane would have to admit how brilliant he was. And maybe he could even get the Elder to recognise him as an adult.

And thus, childish bow in hand, a quiver of arrows _borrowed_ from his father slung across his back, Firenze travelled onwards. Several times he stopped, occasionally recognising a herb that Mjrn used often in her medicines, and picking them to take back as well. Ha, take that, Bane. There's no way you could do better than me now!

Hours later, however, the moon was rising, and still there was no sign of a dream hare. Unfortunately for the young Firenze, he had failed to take into consideration the fact that it was approaching winter, and as was their custom, the dream hares all disappeared into their burrows to sleep throughout the winter. To make matters worse, Firenze had forgotten one of Miqote's most basic lessons - if you aren't sure exactly where you are going, leave a trail to help you find the way back. Thus, Firenze found himself tired, cold, and utterly lost. And as if to laugh at his misfortune, the clouds burst, and it began to rain. So now poor Firenze was tired, cold, utterly lost, and quickly becoming soaked through to the bone. And the herbs he had gathered were being ruined too.

Rushing over to a nearby copse of trees that were closer together than most, the young centaur took shelter under their leaves, thankful that most of the rain was kept off of him. Of course, when it seemed that he might just manage to be safe at last, the howling of Gytrashes reached the boy's ears. And worse still, Firenze had no way to make a light. They hadn't started their lessons in magic with the Elder yet, so he had no idea how to protect himself. Curling into a ball and beginning to cry, the little centaur wished desperately to go home where it was safe, where Father might scold him for being foolish, but would forgive him afterwards.

It would never be certain to Firenze whether his magic reacted to his desperate wish, or whether the Fates decided he had been picked on enough, but what was certain was that just as one of the Gytrashes was about to bite him, it suddenly wasn't there anymore. Opening his eyes slightly, Firenze found himself staring up at a wild, almost savage-looking man - or he would have been, were it not for the look of concern on the man's face.

"Hey there. Ya alrigh'?"

Firenze's mouth would wouldn't seem to work, and when he finally did speak, his first words were, "Please don't eat me." Surprisingly, the giant of a man started laughing, a loud, warm friendly sound that put Firenze at ease slightly.

"I'm not gunna eat ya, lad. Do you need help finding your way home?"

Well. That was something, at least. Too tired to care about what Bane would think - 'Accepting help from _humans_, Firenze?' - the young centaur nodded. The giant man smiled at him again.

"Dun't worry, lad. Every couple years, this sorta thing happens. One of ya thinks they're ready ta take on the world, then realize they ain't quite ready yet. You ain't been the first, and ya sure won't be the last, mark my words."

By this point, they had reached the enclave - 'I must have walked in a circle' was Firenze's thought - and the giant man waved to the guard. A quick conversation, and Firenze's father had come to collect him from the giant man's - Hagrid's - care. The punishment for disobeying the Elder hadn't even been that bad, all things considered. He was grounded for a week, and there would be no more archery lessons for a week after that. On the plus side, Mjrn had been very impressed with some of the herbs he collected, and had thanked him for them. After berating him for his utter foolishness in risking his life for them, of course. But all things considered, Firenze thought, maybe he should stay a foal for a little longer yet. 

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A/N: Well, chapter two is up. Firenze has been introduced, and isn't he adorable as a young centaur? You just want to pinch his cheeks, don't ya? Also, please don't kill me if I mangled Hagrid's accent. I've no idea how it's meant to be written. Also, points and a virtual cookie to anyone who gets the hidden message in this chapter. Hint: It has something to do with the title of story. As always, please review, and remember that I greatly appreciate every review, favourite and alert I receive. Thank you!


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